Marrana

Not amused: the scribbler.

Candid readers, it seems Ana Castillo, the learned subject of my Oct. 2 post, got wind of it and unwisely elected to counterpost, to the best of her limited abilities.  Below, therefore, I’ve cut and pasted the Oct. 9 blog entry from her website, verbatim, with one exception.  (I here elide the full name of the Berkeley grad student whose spelling/usage boner triggered my original post, a person whom Señorita Cosa gracelessly outs by name in her blog post — as my own post, you’ll recall, did not and still won’t.)

At the outset, let me note that Castillo includes, in her limp tissue of wet complaints, at least one bald-faced lie: that your faithful servant called the First Draqqueen a “gorilla” in a June 18, 2009 post.  Bullshit.  On the contrary, I used it to chastise those who do so call her, on the ground that Miss Hell Obomber doesn’t remotely resemble an ape, only a garden-variety, butt-ugly human being.  So get it straight, mentirosa.  Or did she just misread the post, as would be in keeping with her limited skill-set?  If so, I retract mentirosa and say she’s babosa.

My own reflections on Castillo’s devastating riposte follow.

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Friday, October 09, 2009

https://deanswift.wordpress.com/

This morning the world wakes to our the news that our president has been awarded the Nobel. But no doubt it has further fueled the ignorance the racism that has reared its very ugly head since his election in this country–just like the above link that went out yesterday about my reading last night.

By the way, it was extremely well attended.
And while I am not a size 42 (and nothing wrong with that) and don’t pump out books like the white privileged mystery writer she referred me I personally took no offense.
Anyone who calls Sara Palin ‘divine’ is in some serious need of soul saving.
It is true that people come to listen to my reading but what this hateful ’student’ can’t appreciate (but probably would understand if her hero Sara Palin came to Berkeley) is that my long time readers also come to SEE me.
Reading further on this white reactionary blog–she has referred to the first lady as a ‘gorilla’ and to those who must obviously be objecting to this hateful nonsense as ‘anti-white’? Whatever happened to Berkeley?
I’ll have to say it recalled the last time I was on this campus–as a Regent’s lecturer. As I began my reading at the Latina conference ’somene’ set off the fire alarm. the building was evacuated immediately, fire department called, program over–I went off to have Chinese food with friends. I asked Rosa M——z–the target of the hateful blog entry yesterday to read it beforei introducing me at the program. There are two emotions that motivate the human spirit, I told them afterward. One is love (the reason I have been invited, the students who helped to organized, the professors who teach my books and the community people who came out) and fear–the blog entry.

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[October 23, 2009]

My, what a deft close reader Castillo is!  She sloppily infers that your faithful servant is herself a grad student, and at Berkeley, inter alia, because Sweet Thang, my source, is.  (Sorry to embarrass you, baby — I know you’ve gone all monkish on our collective ass the last year or two, but remember, there were times when you used to spoil me ROTTEN.  You know you did.)

As if I’d be caught dead in either the profession or the place.  Baby, when you write you need to get paid for it.  And living anywhere but Silver Lake (with the possible exception of Williamsburg, as I remember it anyway) sounds to me like hideous exile in the sticks.  I won’t even cross the line into Los Feliz, kids — that shit’s bourgeois.

And let’s not even start on Castillo’s syntax and usage boners — I guess your faithful servant was on to something after all, huh, mean old bitch that I am, as you Beaming Betty Crockers out there are forever complaining.  (Can’t a girl be tough and respected?  Spare me your sugary, femmy, nurturing, first-wave feminist kitsch, ladies of the Left.)  And, holy cow, her smug, insecure, posturing screed of a post’s just rotten with typos — if I dared hand my editor a piece in this shape, let alone tried to post it as a finished article, she’d throw it back in my face.  And rightly so.

Poor dumb creature — Castillo earnestly volunteers, with more rhetoric than sense, that “there are two emotions that motivate the human spirit,” love and fear.  Er, I submit she’s forgetting the third, much more interesting one: amusement, which very vitally motivates my blog entry.  My own amusement, that is — I don’t claim it’s objectively witty, just subjectively, and gives me the relief of shouting, or at least bitching, when confronted with yet another instance of fools swindled by knaves, a capsule formula for the university literature departments these days.

And I assure you, I continue to be amused, rather than angered, by this scribbling ideologue: Could Castillo’s wrapping herself in the flag of Obama bin Laden and his dragqueen spouse be ANY more cloying and fatuous?  I almost puked at her servile, abject “our president” — what’s with this hushed tone of reverence?  Lick boots much, chica?  And how about her frantic, fawning haste to point out “Look, look, I’m important, I was a Regent’s Lecturer at Berkeley!” (long since a hollow credential, alas, after literature in the mainline universities was defined down to include the pulp fiction of agitproppers like Castillo).

There, there, don’t cry — have a nice cup of Insecuri-Tea, dear, you’ll feel better.  And maybe just a bit of cheese with your whine?  Gross!  It’s unseemly — she’s like a needy puppy, yapping and whining as it runs back and forth to trip you in the hall, peeing on itself and your shoes in eagerness to be validated.

La lecture du testament (F. S. Delpech)

Above: A portentous littérateur reads, to an adoring claque of spectators, at Berkeley.

And how ’bout that pompous, overblown mandarinism?  (Pretty sad day for the mandarinate, if this mis-speller and sentence-fragmenter’s what they’re reduced to revering.)  Castillo and the quasi-literates who buy her printed effluvia exhibit a suffocating, lifeless deference to social authority and received opinions that would make Alfred Lord Tennyson and Queen Victoria blush for shame.  “My books are taught in the universities!”  (Cut to extreme close-up of celestial mandarin strolling through Hall of Mirrors, making heavy-lidded, purse-lipped faces to the glass, huelepedos nose held skyward in paroxysm of smarm.)  Oh, madam, I do apologize — please, your ladyship, say no more, we’re all terribly impressed out here in the trenches, where literature, if it’s to be made at all, will actually get made.

Actually, if she wants to read what might very well, after a few decades of cool judgment intervene first, be judged literature, by a first-tier intellect and first-tier stylist who happens to be Mexican-American but isn’t, mercifully, far gone in terminal self-adoration, or a bought-and-paid-for political hack, Castillo has much, much to learn from the deft Richard Rodriguez, especially his essay collection Days of Obligation: An Argument with My Mexican Father (best on style points) and Brown: The Last Discovery of America (best on substance).

Rodriguez,_Richard

Actual talent: Richard Rodriguez.

But, horrors!  To admit the greater merits of another writer like Rodriguez, whose writing, both as form and substance, soars out of the abysm of self-reference in which Castillo’s screeds are sunk, would be to move beyond squalling self-absorption, to grow a pair and quit blaming “society” for the fact that you can’t write, and that nobody but the closed circle of the professionally aggrieved, and the repressed white ladies in the English departments who enjoy missionarying and condescending to them, wants to read your prose.  If it’s only because Castillo’s a “minority” (and she’s sure as shit not a minority here in majority-Mexican L.A.), or if it’s only because “society” is holding her down, that she can’t write her way out of a wet paper sack, then how do we explain Rodriguez?

For Rodriguez’ writing transcends, rather than wallows in, the disadvantages he was born into.  In his marvelously complex life, the past isn’t disavowed, or lost — but neither is it sentimentalized, nourished, fostered, in a perennial bile of resentments, grievances, and unforgiven wrongs (Lucifer, anybody?) in the belly you croon to, day in, day out, that’s long since risen up your gorge and into your head and yellowed even your eyes, so that for decades you haven’t seen anything, anything at all, even the stars or the flowers, except through the jaundiced prism of your hatreds.

No, in Rodriguez that past is instead neutralized, sweetened, absorbed, turned into something rich and strange that no one’s quite sure of yet (but we’re sure that we like it, ’cause it’s stylish).  The narrative arc he began in Hunger of Memory, a mesmerizing account of how Rodriguez, like all of us who manage to write prose people not part of our clique care about, achieved escape velocity from private language and rocketed into public speech and citizenship, is still curving upward (let’s hope there’s a book-length sequel to Brown).  Rodriguez like all Americans worthy of the name is a self-fashioner where Castillo is a self-pitier; he long ago left the dank, close air of Berkeley, in whose English Department he did his grad work — apparently without ever writing an e-mail to colleagues beginning “you might of heard…” — for the bracing air of the city.  Was it inborn talent, or lots and lots of hard work?  Both?

Either way, Castillo’s camp of critical race theorists and moldy Marxists, forever blaming bad character on social and economic conditions — as if poor people were so poor they can’t pick up their yards — will live and die petulantly refusing to accept any explanation for inequalities of outcome that doesn’t always, suspiciously, circle back to mean, old, rich, male whitey.  (What pity I’m none of the above — well, okay, maybe I’m a little mean, just around the edges).  ‘Cause that might require these professional resenters, if only imaginatively, to exit the warm, solipsist womb of the university hall of mirrors, and this, we can infer, the comfortable charity-case scribblers, cozily cocooned in praise from the Lilliputians of the lit departments, will never bestir themselves to do.

Rodriguez, you see, was exposed to, and then eagerly immersed himself in, writers of times, places and situations other than his own — Gawd, he even read Protestant theology at Columbia — those crazy nuns, you see, trusted him to learn and generalize beyond his own parochial experience.  And now it’s paid big dividends in his subtly-toned, allusive, impersonal prose, and in a smart, well-balanced cultural criticism which may before long stand comparison with Carlyle’s and Arnold’s — because Rodriguez long ago disdained and bypassed the horrible self-ghettoization of “ethnic studies,” championed by soft-bigotry-of-low-expecations types like Castillo and her enablers in the lit departments.

Arnold

Rodriguez’ great master Arnold: they share the long, bony, handsome head.

Speaking of which, shouldn’t having her deathless fictions put on a university lit syllabus be the kiss of death for little Miss Piss-on-the-Canon, in whose dim, dim horizon of expectations the horrid Barbara Cartland probably does loom as some “white privileged mystery writer,” a veritable mass-market Patricia Highsmith?  But don’t expect logical consistency or rhetorical coherence from this shameless self-promoter — Castillo’s blog post is far too busy tripping over itself in her haste to run and hide behind the skirts of (secular) Respectability, Piety and Orthodoxy, rushing to shut down any debate that might unsettle her and her claque’s easy, shallow certainties — and I’m reactionary?  Oh, this is too good!

Who’s the pious old fraud trying to convince, anyway?  I don’t think it’s really me, or you, candid reader — more like herself and the cowed claque of coffee shop radicals, parochial hippies and ugly introvert fat girls who turn out for her “readings.”  How exactly should I fear Castillo when she can’t even close-read another girl’s blog post, let alone a literary text?  Or excise the typos, solecisms and just plain infelicities from her own?  First cast out the beam from your own eye, hocicona, and then you’ll see clearly how to pull the mote outta mine.

Oh, and by the way: It’s not me but you, dear, who need some “soul-saving” — tsk, tsk, sounds rather Christian and reactionary of you, and don’t lefties pretend all human behavior’s caused by material condtions? — about Sarah Palin.  (Note the “h,” dim bulb — I only used the Italian spelling locally to cohere with “la divina.”  And must we hilariously infer that you took the epithet literally?  Oh dear; the dullness is just too painful.)  For as everyone on the right knows, and as all of you on the left dread, Sarah Palin has the body of a goddess (not the blood-drinking pre-Columbian ones you posture to revere, dear), and the raw energy and crowd appeal of a rock star, and she’s going to be the next President of the United States.

But then, you were probably just exercised ’cause you couldn’t construe my Latin about her.  That’s pretty embarrassing, no?  Shouldn’t a Latina be Latinaloquens?

Going Rogue

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Miranda, amanda — and dux femina facti, you damn betcha.

La Divina Sara

It will surprise none of you, candid readers, that la divina Sara‘s new memoir Going Rogue: An American Life, with six weeks to go before release date, has already rocketed to number one on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Yes, Governor Palin, that most potent mixture of Laura Ingalls Wilder, Magna Mater and Britomart, to name just a few of her coruscating personae, is a rock star, who leaves bourgeoise hags like Miss Hell Obomber and lumpen lesbians like Hillary Clinton in the dust.  She’s a scintillating ball of energy and blooming good health — in addition to being a blend of William Jennings Bryan and Robert Alphonso Taft, of blessed Old America memory — and she could draw 50,000 people to the opening of a hardware store, on an hour’s notice.

Beat that, Barack Hussein Ogabe, you gangling, crack-smoking pimp.  But then, I guess there are no chapters in Alinsky for dealing with forces of nature.  The affirmative-action incompetent in the White House and his loathsome Chicago handlers are way out of their depth dealing with Palin, as we saw last fall when her mesmerizing speech at the Republican National Convention sent Ogabe’s Potemkin village campaign into a tailspin (rescued, just in the nick of time, by the spectacular collapse of the Federal Reserve’s stock-jobbing house of cards).

Herewith, therefore, a link to SarahPAC, where you can donate a few Yankee dollars to our first female President’s political action committee, as I did this afternoon — yes, my widow’s mite goes to Sarah, and cheerfully done:

http://sarahpac.com/

I trust Gov. Palin will continue to be the focus of support not only for us Constitutionalists, populists, paleoconservatives, libertarians, and values voters, but also for all you Republicans of good will out there who think McCain, Grahamnesty and Lamar Alexander (the last two voted to confirm Red Sonia Sotomayor) and the rest of those country-club Viagravators should get bent.

lindsey-graham1

Grahamnesty : Does the depilated old queen imagine that thin, tight rictus passes for a smile? And that porcine nose, as though he were constantly scenting his own sulphurous fart.  Would that Mencken were living at this day, to satirize this high prole come up in the world, or better yet Catullus, with his Celtiberian nouveaux riches proudly showing their teeth on the slightest pretext, freshly brushed with Spanish piss.

Speaking of country clubs, the principle-free zone that is Mitt “Stop Me if You’ve Heard Me Deny the Divinity of Christ Before” Romney, and the rest of the Grand Old Plutocrats, better be nice to Sarah. Remember the last banker with a personality bypass who crossed us and thought he could still be president? The one defeated by Perot and succeeded by Clinton?

Sarah Palin potpourri!

July 30, 2009

La divina.

art.spalin0608.gi

Candid readers, I appreciate your patience in waiting a month for this latest installment.  I’m honored that some of you wrote specially to request more — so herewith a compilation or potpourri of several squibs and bagatelles, previously published elsewhere, on She Who Must Be Reported On.  There’s no lexical or even thematic thread running through them, except that each glosses a news story touching Gov. Palin; I’ve just transcribed them in chronological order, discrete.  Enjoy!

[06/26/09]

Preach it, Sarah! And keep being physically and morally beautiful — it makes the Dorian Gray Democrats just livid. Especially Sen. Ketchupheiress, treasonable champion of the American Left in 2004: Horse’s face, horse’s ass. As Churchill reportedly said to the bossy dowager (the literate know the prelude, so I omit it here): “Yes, madame — but in the morning I shall be sober, and you will still be ugly.”

All good satirists go ad hominem, or in Kerry’s case ad equum. Can’t keep it at the level of high legal theory all the time, especially dealing with Sen. Medalsthrower, that betraying bastard.

Actually, on reflection Sarah’s too kind. It’s not so much the length as the corrugation of Kerry’s snout. Really the overall effect is, echoing Catullus 97, the wrinkling and puckering of a dehiscent mule, only permanently frozen in place.

Here’s the poem for my Latinists. Truly, it’s Kerry:

Non (ita me di ament) quicquam referre putavi
utrumne os an culum olfacerem Aemilio.
nilo mundius hoc, nihiloque immundius illud,
verum etiam culus mundior et melior:
nam sine dentibus est. hoc dentis sesquipedalis,
gingivas vero ploxeni habet veteris,
praeterea rictum qualem diffissus in aestu
meientis mulae cunnus habere solet.
hic futuit multas et se facit esse venustum,
et non pistrino traditur atque asino?
quem si qua attingit, non illam posse putemus
aegroti culum lingere carnificis?

[07/05/09]

‘Don’t explain; your friends don’t need it, and your enemies won’t believe you anyway.’ Conservatives, consider taking the Governor at her word. Resign political office, sparing oneself and one’s children sprays of poison from Obama’s grinning degenerates, aging catamites like David Letterman and gnawing shrews like “Katie” Couric? Of course the lefties scoff — how should the children of broken homes, of aborting mothers and homosexual fathers, believe? What evidence do they give of even the thinnest scraping of moral imagination? Is it so strange the Governor should stoke great billows of hatred and wrath in HuffPo degenerates? “Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”

[07/08/09]

La Camilla on La Sara, hot off the press:

“The vicious double standard is pretty obvious. Only the tabloids, for example, ran the photos of a piss-drunk Chelsea Clinton, panties exposed, falling into her car outside London clubs a few years ago. If Chelsea had been the scion of Republican bigwigs, those tacky scenes would have been trumpeted from pillar to post in the U.S. as signals of parental failures…”

[07/14/09]

Palin Derangement Syndromers, gnash your teeth — Sarah speaks. And whenever she does, it’s news. Go ahead: fume, sputter, get red in the face. The more you clench your fists, the more Sarah just slips through your fingers. Here, you can enjoy her dumping on Sen. Voraxa Vulpine’s (D-CA) cap-and-tax hike. The old bag’s just grandstanding, of course; a sop for the Bay Area body-odor set. Don’t kid yourselves, hippies; the bill’s going nowhere. Oh, and Boxer looks like an old boot, too.

Sarah’s media gold and she’ll be making news whenever she wants for years to come. Hate her till you pop a vein, lefties. And Meghan McCain Republicans. (That bleached-out Black Angus, three hundred pounds of Daily Beast beef on the hoof, is twice the woman Sarah is — on the bathroom scale. I adamantly oppose abortion but can’t Cindy McCain be ordered to have one retroactively?)

[07/17/09]

It takes a Canadian, to see the zero-sum culture war of urban with rural America.

“We have one group that lives under the highly artificial and intensely regulated conditions of post-modern urban life. (Even if they go to a cottage, it will be equipped with the electronic paraphernalia to create a bubble of urbanity.) And, we have another group who remain in contact with the eternal verities of life on this planet. (Who, for instance, associate electric power with doing work, as opposed to “making consumer choices.”)

Perhaps better terms for the two sides, to replace left and right, might be “martians” and “earthlings.”

It is to the earthlings in this scenario that Ms. Palin is speaking. And when she writes lines like this intentional jaw-dropper in the Washington Post — “We are ripe for economic growth and energy independence if we responsibly tap the resources that God created right underfoot on American soil” — she is quite intentionally signalling that she is ready for war.”

[07/22/09]

The Constitutionalist renaissance continues. The time’s ripe, conservatives and libertarians: give each moderate or centrist you know a thumbnail education in federalism. Most don’t know the concept from Adam, having wasted four years, like yours truly, in one of those NEA homes for aging hippies where they teach sex ed instead of civics. But once explained, they grasp it instinctively, and respond eagerly. They know they don’t like it when the First Citizen (if he is one) confiscates their income to shower his urban redoubts with cash. They know they hate it when federal courts shove alien cultural and religious values down their throats. Now give them a principled reason why! Pragmatics are all very well, but teach these persuadables they don’t even need to reach the merits, whether this or that socialist policy of Obomber “works” or not — does it do violence to the Constitution? Yes. Then defy it.

[07/27/09]

What’s old is always new again, and where better for the next Tenth Amendment renaissance than the home of Boy Bryan, the original Red State republican — lower-case, please — and a loyal son of Jefferson and Jackson. As those who nowadays attend Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinners are distinctly not. Though of course neither are many of those who host and attend Lincoln Day dinners. Sarah Palin, Michael Huckabee and all other non-Arian presidential hopefuls, please take note.

[07/28/09]

Give me more of that old-time Ann Coulter! The Queen of Mean dumps on the locker room punching bags and dowdy schoolgirls who grew up to be Jon Stewart, or university staff. Libs are “talking about her like an ex-girlfriend… Because she’s magnificent… a huge star… the hatred for Palin is coming from liberal women in New York who have overheard their boyfriends saying, Well, gotta admit, she is good-looking.”

art.spalin0608.gi

[Postscript]

My old friend Peona de Fleur, high up in a Washington D.C.-area conservative think tank, as quick-witted as your faithful servant but less stodgy, suggests the following captions for Gov. Palin’s photo:

“Because Todd’s at least this big, I keep comin’ back to ride that ride…”

“Anyone who’s not this big won’t beat me down, come 2012…”

“You know what turns liberal women into conservatives?”

“Most Lefties dream of redistribution because they don’t have it upstairs or downstairs…”

I sent the man $100 during the ’08 primaries, and I’d do it again.

mike-huckabee-no-suit

CNN quotes Gov. Huckabee making some sharp remarks in California on the stupidity of chasing social conservatives from the GOP.  The occasion?  Per CNN:

“On Saturday, three prominent GOP leaders — Rep. Eric Cantor, former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney — kicked off a campaign to reshape their party’s image, gathering at a restaurant in northern Virginia for the first of a series of town hall meetings. The goal of the initiative, called the National Council for a New America, is to connect Republican leaders with voters across the country to help get the party’s electoral fortunes back on track.”

Aha.  So while the Three Stooges roll out an astroturf welcome mat to a bunch of phantom swing voters, the amoral and mercenary lot who swung the election to B. Hussein Obama last fall, Huck’s smart enough to campaign for real Republican votes three years early, in small media markets like the Central Valley.  (He gave the quoted interview to the Visalia (California) Times-Delta.)  That’s what’s known as building your grassroots.

Like him or not, Republicans, the man has natural charm, a direct conduit to millions through his Fox News TV show, and can campaign rings around the wooden Romney, a Brylcreemed plutocrat who’s about as appealing as a tubal ligation.  And am I the only Palin/McCain voter who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn what Jeb Bush thinks, about anything? Advice from yet a third Bush when the first two each put a Democrat in the White House?  Aw hell no.

But here’s Governor Huckabee in his own shrewd words:

“Throw the social conservatives the pro-life, pro-family people overboard and the Republican party will be as irrelevant as the Whigs,” he said in reference to the American political party that largely disbanded in the mid 1800s.

“They’ll basically be a party of gray-haired old men sitting around the country club puffing cigars, sipping brandy and wondering whatever happened to the country. That will be the end of the party,” he said in the interview published Thursday.

That’s a polite, politic way of hinting to the socially-liberal moneybags who have hitherto funded and expected to control the GOP: Screw us on social issues just one more time, and conservatives will bloody bolt your wretched party; we’ll build a populist free-enterprise party with Tea Party, Reagan and other working-class white Democrats.  Whether that new party wins outright in 2012, or instead delivers the 2012 election to Obama, the GOP as party of big finance and, after eight years of Bush II, big government will go the way of the dodo — or as Huck puts it, with his lovable gift for recalling Old America’s history, the Whigs.

Does Huck have a leg to stand on?  Well now, let’s see: the hard-core base of the GOP have been since Nixon’s 1968 realignment Christian, especially evangelical Protestant, conservatives.  So now we’re to take advice on how to screw over and turn off that base from:

1. Mitt Romney, that most incongruous of things yoked by violence together, a Wall Street Mormon;

2. Jeb Bush, a man on the liberal fringe of the Roman Catholic Church (modernist American Catholics voted enthusiastically for Obama and are about as popular with the Vatican and the rest the Church as an ill-coiffed lesbian Methodist preacheress from Minneapolis); and

3. Eric Cantor, a young Jewish congressman who, in addition to still being soaking wet behind the ears, has a loyal national following of… the Republicans in his own Virginia district.

Do you begin to see the GOP’s brilliant strategic gifts?  The ones that led John McAmnesty to support the unconstitutional bailouts last fall when, opposing them, he might have ridden Main Street’s anger at Wall Street to victory?  Huck’s just speaking a little home truth on electoral math here; it’s not for nothing that the GOP was dubbed, by one of its most astute and acrid critics from the right, the late Sam Francis of Chronicles Magazine, “the stupid party.” As the Carolingian French said of the Vikings, “From the fury of the Republicans deliver us, O Lord!”

So in a word, conservatives, Huck makes a vital point: Drive a hard bargain with these Wall Street and suburban seculars who want their taxes cut but think you, your manufacturing job, and our historically European Christian culture are negotiable if they can “broaden” the GOP to be “inclusive.”  Whom must we include?  Amnestied illegal aliens on the dole, selfish white ladies who abort Baby because he’ll get in the way of tennis lessons, and a congeries of Prozacked, casually-sexed twenty-somethings (and their bovine bullhorn in the media, Meghan McCain) who think sodomy needs to become a sacrament, and pronto, or else representative government will collapse about our ears.  The new, rebranded GOP, eh?  Include me out.

And now, HotAir’s Allahpundit reports, Huck’s being echoed in some unlikely quarters, like the ebullient Zo of ZoNation fame — who, despite what liberal Republicans like Jeb Bush and Twit Romney hallucinate over G&Ts at the country club, is quite typical of social conservatives’ racial and generational diversity.  Zo’s now posted another of his sharply-observed monologues, and this time it’s “to the lantern with the RINOs”:

Amen.

The Three Stooges: it’d be funny if it weren’t so sad.

three-stooges

(Pyongyang) Last night’s speech to Congress by Dear Leader B. Hussein Obomber was received with tears of gratitude by the devoted American people, from San Francisco to Berkeley, from FDR Drive to Columbus Avenue, and everywhere in between. Seated upstairs in the gallery was the First Dragqueen, elegantly attired for this formal occasion in a sleeveless magenta mumu from Ross; her satellite-dish hips and flailing man-hands swirled and waved a funky shout-out to her powdered, depilated spouse below, busily mugging for the MSDNC cameras.

On the podium behind the Dear Leader stood Nates Pilosae (D-Sodom), Loudspeaker of the House, her puffy paunch and sagging breasts stylishly accented by a puke-green hoodie from Old Navy. Pilosae grasped the Louspeaker’s nutcracker with a firm knobby talon, banging it lustily to announce, through her whittled-down nose, Obomber’s arrival, though her constipated, fangy smile did little to dispel rumors she bites the heads off bats in her lunch hour.

Next to Pilosae sat Windy Joe Blow Biden (D-Amtrakstop), Vice-President and Minister for Asspinching; his hairplugs had never looked so luxuriant, nor his great gleaming dentures so radiant, and the Vice-President did not burp or break wind even once, though he’d just finished a groaning platter of corned beef and cabbage and three Seagram’s and Sevens at dinner.

These high dignitaries were preceded into the chamber by the Dear Leader’s learned cabinet (or what’s left of it after the various tax cheats and influence peddlers got run out of Dodge): Jamit Napolitano, unibrowed former Governor of Arizona and crypto-carpetmuncher; Timothy Geithner, tax cheat at Treasury whose non-plans made the markets nosedive; Hilda Solis, former Brown Power radical, whose graceless scrambles to bestow big, vulgar hugs on every penny-ante staffer she’d never met were repeatedly stymied by her stubby legs and cheap-stitched skirt, so that she kept plunging bad hair and weepy face into stomachs and crotches instead.

Most impressive of all was the Dear Leader himself, his McGovernite ideas fresh, his tautologies soothing because purred in a faux-baritone. By confiscating prudent, thrifty Americans’ incomes to shower cash on greedy proles who won’t even pick up their $800,000 yards, the Dear Leader’s stimulus bill will soon kickstart the manufacturing and small business sectors – have not the wise grad-school dropouts at MSDNC, the New York Times and HuffPo affirmed it is so?

Contrary to disloyal lies by running revisionist right-wingers, the Dear Leader – may he rule forever! or at least till Sarah Palin and Bobby Jindal kick his ass – is NOT just a glorified pimp, a glib, grinning, shit-talking, America-hating white liberal (never mind the traveling Kenyan babydaddy) who’d kill us if he dared, though mercifully he’d have to fall down a well to have a deep thought. The Dear Leader loves his children, black, yellow, brown, red and white (in that order, thank you), and his proposals to socialize heath care and dump money on the NEA and its surly lesbians will hurt him more than they hurt you – except in your back pocket, of course, where they’ll hurt you more, like a Coke bottle in the rectum.

la-camilla

Just for fun, in a fit of anti-Yale and anti-elite pampered commodes of received opinion generally – that country club in Palo Alto with the bad library, say, Taco Bella Italia prefab – here’s a reprise of La Camilla’s post-election Salon column. All the tastier since the Obamatards are now having to eat their hats about Barky Hussein’s cool competence, his first-class temperament with a first-class intellect, blah blah blah burp brack ralph bruce.

Money quote: “How dare Palin not embrace abortion as the ultimate civilized ideal of modern culture? How tacky that she speaks in a vivacious regional accent indistinguishable from that of Western Canada! How risible that she graduated from the University of Idaho and not one of those plush, pampered commodes of received opinion whose graduates, in their rush to believe the worst about her, have demonstrated that, when it comes to sifting evidence, they don’t know their asses from their elbows.” Camille’s been reading her Lady’s Dressing Room!

Pictured (l to r): Sexist limpwrist; racist blowhard.

Sen. B. Hussein Obama (Weatherman – IL) recently cut an ad denigrating Gov. Palin’s habit of winking to underscore a point she’s making to an audience; the Dhimmicrat is trying to make sexist hay with the governor’s gesture by implying it’s somehow weak or femmy.  (If such qualities were actually disqualifiers for high office then Chickenlegs himself would, of course, have to be rushed to the nearest hospital for an emergency masculinity transfusion.)

But Sarah-cuda or rather her backers didn’t take this one sitting down.  In rejoinder, here’s the Team Sarah ad, apparently in defiance of McCain’s palsied, hopeless little rules about not bringing up B. Hussein’s twenty-year tutelage by ordained-through-the-mail-with-cereal-boxtops Rev. Jerrummayah Uhwrighat (my attempted transliteration of the old thug’s patois).

Barky’s pretty lucky he’s only running against a polite old gentleman of 72 who pussyfoots around the terrorist padrino and the seditious preacher. If that hurricane of élan vital Gov. Palin were the nominee, she’d have long ago done to Barky Hussein what Jesse Jackson yearned to do – except, alas, that Barky’s feral wife long ago nipped ’em off with her lower teeth and keeps ’em in her sack. Her purse I mean.


Vagina dentata.  (Not pictured: tucked phallus and scrotum.)

Why’s Miss Priss bitching – and that’s all it is, bitching – about Gov. Palin’s wink anyway? ’Cause it’s a delightful vernacular touch the Punahou Pimp can never simulate no matter how many gs he labors to drop from his participles – and ’cause reptiles can’t nictitate, right? Except when spitting poison with their forked tongues.

Obama-in-the-grass.

Beauty and two beasts (l to r): Gov. Sarah Palin (R-AK); untalented lesbian nobody; C-list Hollywood starlet Lintseed Lame-ham.

(Purulence, CA) Lintseed Lame-ham, professional lesbian and poxed whore popular with teenagers, today awarded her coveted Presidential endorsement to first-term Senator Barack Hussein Obama (Marxist-IL). In giving Obama her imprimatur and attacking Gov. Sarah Palin (R-AK) Lame-ham joins other grave elder statesmen such as Pam Anderson, Margaret Cho and Matt Damon.

Asked whether she was troubled by Obama’s now-notorious racist remark that “White folks’ greed runs a world in need,” since she is a rich white folk herself, Lame-ham laughed off the question. “He can, like, totally say that ’cause he IS white. He’s only black in the sense his mama was fortuitously fertilized by a traveling Kenyan academic. Other’n that, he’s been fostered solely by rich white-guilt people, from Punahou prep school to Harvard.” Asked if she knew what a law review is or why Obama mysteriously never wrote any legal scholarship while purportedly editing one, Lint-seed averted her raccoon-mascara eyes and popped her gum a little louder.

Lame-ham then smirked, or perhaps it was only a fleeting flatulence, fore or aft. “Imagine the reaction in the Kool-Aid media if John McCain had said ‘Black folkssloth makes the spinning of the moth.’ Like, omigod…” Here Lint-seed interrupted herself to plunge a hand down her waistband, scratching what seemed to be a fiery itch high on her inner thigh. When relief obtained she withdrew fingernail from fundament and resumed: “Yeah, and Sarah Palin’s like, crass and stupid or something.”

Heroine.

Asked whether she could locate Alaska on a map without assistance, Lint-seed bristled: “Of course! That’s that state in the South where the Democrat governor turned fire hoses on black people, but then Abraham Washington freed the slaves so everything was like, okay and shit, and…” Here Lame-ham again broke off, raising the aforementioned fingernail to nostril, then gingerly fingered her upper lip, red and puffy from what appeared to be carpet burn.

Buying salsa in Albuquerque: still ¡muy picante!

The most accurate 2004 presidential poll was Investor’s Business Daily/TIPP, which predicted Bush’s margin of victory (over Kerry) within three-tenths of one percent of the actual outcome. No other pollster was so accurate.

IBD/TIPP now calls the national race between McCain and Obama as a 2.8% Obama lead, extremely close and well within the margin of error, and notes a slow but steady movement toward McCain/Palin in the final two weeks:

http://www.ibdeditorials.com/series13.aspx

These data suggest what I have suspected for weeks: the pro-Obama mainstream media and pollsters are cooking their poll numbers by deliberately overestimating youth and black turnout, Democrat over GOP voter identification, and the percentage of undecideds who will break for Obama. (You’ll note that IBD/TIPP puts undecideds at 8.8% — that’s huge, and rely upon it that many of them, being cautious and hesitant to make a mistake, won’t suddenly embrace risk and vote Obama when they finally get in the polling booth.)

The bottom line: The mainstream media, desperate to get Obama elected, are trying to suppress independent and Republican turnout and to demoralize McCain/Palin voters. Ignore them. The race is extremely close, as the Obama campaign well knows; it continues to campaign hard especially in Colorado. If Colorado, which reliable polling says is right now a dead heat, goes McCain/Palin then they will almost certainly win the national election.

Or, if you prefer Gallup, its poll now shows an even closer race, 49% Obama to 47% McCain, using their traditional (and therefore more reliable) model of likely voters:

http://www.gallup.com/poll/111568/Gallup-Daily-Presidential-Race-Narrows-Slightly.aspx

The expanded model relies, unwisely, on the assumption that there will be a huge upswing in the under-30 turnout, and in first-time voters. We’ve heard the same confident predictions in the past two election cycles — and in both, Gore and Kerry, who were supposed to be swept over the top by such voters, went down to defeat.

Therefore, now more than ever, please remember that the race is far from over. On the contrary, it is extremely close, and the only way the Obama Democrats can win Colorado (and the election) is by demoralizing and suppressing McCain/Palin turnout. Please forward or publicize this information to friends and coworkers, especially those who may unwisely be paying attention to the cooked poll numbers (read: propaganda to suppress the McCain/Palin vote) being pushed by the pro-Obama mainstream media.

And finally, here’s a fascinating blog post by Hillbuzz, a prominent Hillary Clinton supporter working in the (large but unreported) DeMcCrats effort, Hillary voters for McCain/Palin. It seems that, just as suspected, Obama is poised to lose Pennsylvania and therefore the election, because union and other Democrat voters simply won’t vote for a pencilneck radical who hates them and America, whatever they may say on the record:

http://hillbuzz.wordpress.com/2008/10/28/breaking-heres-what-we-know-about-pennsylvania-right-now/

Makes perfect sense, really. It was Pennsylvania voters whom Obama insulted behind their backs in San Francisco as “bitter” working people who “cling” to Christianity and their Second Amendment rights. That, and the fact that Pennsylvania Congressman Jack Murtha, he of the shameful libel of the Haditha Marines, recently got caught calling his constituents “racists” and “rednecks.”

Mirthful Murtha the Merciless: libeler and America-hater (i.e. Democrat in good standing).

If the spirit moves you, you can join Fred Thompson, Mike Huckabee and the NRCC in donating to the campaign of Murtha’s worthy opponent, Col. William “Bill” Russell who now stands an excellent chance of forcibly retiring this poisonous old tub of guts.

Even absent his and Murtha’s stupid mistakes, though, how exactly was Barky Hussein likely to win a state where Hillary trounced him 55%-45% in the primary?

Fair-weather douchebag.

As various MSM polls in the last two weeks, conveniently loaded with more Democrats than Republicans, seemed to show McCain/Palin down by a large margin, your faithful servant has been amused — and disgusted — to see a rustling pack of “conservative” journalists throw principles overboard and, tripping over their tails in their haste, try to flee the sinking McCain/Palin ship.  (It’s now apparent that McCain/Palin is actually buoying up big-time, per the latest polling, but more on that shortly.)

It’s a ratty rogues’ gallery of time-servers, temporizers and prosy tools: Christopher Buckley, now formerly of National Review; David Brooks of the New York Times (the nose-picker pictured above), Peggy Noonan of the Wall Street Journal, Rod Dreher of the Dallas Morning News, to name just four.  Bitten by a gnawing lust for a seat at the table in the imminent Obama new order, these sharp-toothed little Rattus republicanus have turned squeaking to bite a chunk from the hand that feeds them (for each name I’ve just named, the feeding, or payment for feed, is literally true).

And what an infernal din of squeaks it’s been, too!  We’ve witnessed the unseemly spectacle of hypocrite, heavy-lidded mandarins filing giggly man-crush columns with National Review: Obama “a first-class temperament and a first-class intellect” (he is neither), for which Bill Buckley’s old journal, to stop the old boy spinning in his grave, promptly fired his quisling brat.

But it hasn’t just been Cwis Buckwey dancing in front of the barbarian army like some dopey Ten Commandments extra, strewing rose petals before the conquering hero.  (An image that’s doubly funny because, I mean, try to imagine Obama wielding anything more lethal than a fingernail file!  Which, of course, the brave slanderer of our fighting men in Afghanistan would only use to pick on someone smaller than his own size: yes, he’d doubtless brandish it at the defenseless babies who survive doctor-assisted infanticide in Illinois.)

No, there are even fouler toads burrowed into the MSM muck who’ve been sticking a knife in the back of McCain/Palin when it seemed opportune.  The toads in question are, believe it or not, further down the scale of life even than Cwis Buckwey, dutifully polishing his Mulatto Messiah’s fundament with tongue-brush.  There are some backbiting Grub Street dogs — mostly neo-conservatives, and what a joke that, as if men with City College Leninists for fathers could be trusted to love America — who’ve found that the MSM will dish out a horse’s hoof or two if they sharpen their tongues against McCain or Palin personally, over and above merely laving Obama’s backside.

One toad in particular has descended to the occasion: the fetid, cross-eyed finger-drummer David Brooks, now mildly infamous for his outpouring of calumny and trash on Sarah Palin (the adipose sweater called her a “cancer” in the Republican party at some dull Atlantic panel, where he inhaled big plates of the free lunch between betrayings).  On his NewsHour with Jim Lehrer segments, Brooks’ sweaty, seat-squirming twitchiness suggests a schizophrenic just barely keeping it together — or should we infer that the obviously well-fed Brooks has just fouled, or is about to, his small-clothes?  In Brooks’ case, one should perhaps feels pity since his daily bread, in the form of those disjoint, constipated columns he squeezes out for the New York Slimes, may very well depend on hailing the conquering Obamatard hero.

Still, just ’cause Judas may have actually needed those30 pieces of silver to make his condo payment, doesn’t mean I can’t despise him for it.  Unlike the man who betrayed Christ, however, we’ll probably wait in vain for the loathsome Brooks to develop enough decency to step outside and hang himself, and in any case if he were to “burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out” the pile-up might block traffic on Columbus Avenue for hours.

David Brooks in his natural environment.

The perspiring amphibian Brooks and his knives in the back are, however, nothing new to the skeptical student of human nature.  Veterinarians report that there are tapeworms more loyal to the horse’s intestines, than Brooks to benefactors — but he’s just the latest and smallest worm in a long line of them.  Yes, Booger Dave is what the Roman historian Velleius Paterculus memorably called the late Republican consul Plancus, a morbo proditor — a “chronic traitor,” or possibly “a betrayer by reason of congenital defect.”  The whole history of the late Roman republic, in fact, is more than a little in my mind these days, with its glum tale of all those Romans, low and high, who betrayed family, rank and even nation to help install the rabble-rousing upstart Octavian in supreme power as Augustus Caesar — thinking they’d be thrown a bone in the new order.  Trying to do my bit to satirize and condemn the David Brooks and Cwis Buckweys, the chronic traitors of 2008, I can’t do better than quote the great historian Sir Ronald Syme on the end of the Roman republic:

Superfluous the effort either to arraign or to rehabilitate the robust careerists who helped to found the monarchy.  Like violence, guile and treachery prospered.  Q. Dellius, proverbial for agility, deserted every side at the right moment… Plancus could smile at the impotent envy of his detractors and the ignoble appellation of a chronic traitor — “morbo proditor.”  Fools or fanatics perished along with lost causes: the traitors and time-servers survived, earning the gratitude of the Roman people. (The Roman Revolution, 511-12)

Quite.  But now, lo and behold!  It seems that Booger Brooks, Cwis Buckwey, Mad Meg Noonan and Rod BeDreher may have sharpened their knives a moment too soon!  You can visit Real Clear Politics or Gallup or any of the other poll sites — or better yet, visit Drudge because his headlines get right to the point and aren’t varnished with pro-Obama frosting.  Or simply visit Gateway Pundit’s tasty, succinct summary of the new polling situation following McCain’s smackdown of Miss Priss in the last debate on Wednesday.  It seems that McCain/Palin is now buoying up big-time in the latest polling — and the opportunist Obama flatterers, who formerly got away with calling themselves conservatives, are left hoist on their own petard, their tiny, tiny generative parts flapping in the breeze.  And I for one can’t get enough of it!  More egg for their faces!

As Dick Morris and a few other stone-cold steel-trap analysts have been saying for days, Obama’s polling almost certainly peaked last week, and will probably continue to bleed a point or so every three days from now until the election, as all the dippy sheeple who liked the way it felt when the ObaMessiah tickled their ears — much like the idiot who kept hitting himself on the head with a hammer, because he liked how it felt when he stopped — gulp and get bug-eyed and feel the shakes of buyer’s remorse at the thought of actually, for real, putting this far-Left amateur in the White House.  And not a moment too soon.