I vigorously dispute Rusty DePass: In no way does the First Dragqueen resemble an ape!  On the contrary — she’s a garden-variety butt-ugly human being.

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Ah secular lefties, always good for a laugh; you never ululate louder than when somebody like Rusty DePass dares apply one of YOUR dogmas. Isn’t it an article of your childlike Darwinist faith — touchingly unshakable when confronted with the total absence of transitional species in the fossil record — that all humans descend from apes? Then why is it insulting to joke a gorilla is Miss Hell’s ancestor? DePass is only practicing what you preach — and you strain at this gnat but swallow Barack Obama camels like “white folks’ greed runs a world in need.”

There are however other perfectly good reasons for the thoughtful theist to bristle at Mr DePass’ little Darwinist home truth, or falsity I should say.  His controversial metaphor not only degrades human beings, created in the image and likeness of the Divine Being, but simians too.  How dare he compare this rangy transvestite, with that face that could stop a clock, to one of the great apes?  What have gorillas ever done to merit comparison to Miss Hell — angry chest-thumping and enraged shit-flinging during the rut aside, that is?

I mean, really!  No gorilla I’VE ever met is a race baiter, affirmative-actioned into Princeton but still seething with anti-white resentments — though she seems happy to spend quite a lot of white taxpayer money on her full-time make-up lackey (I do concede that, being a six-foot man, Miss Hell requires a great deal of paint to pass as even an ugly woman).  No gorilla I’VE ever met pretends teenaged sluts and their petty-thieving babydaddies enjoy a Constitutional right to taxpayer-funded uterine infanticide — ideally, per the lesbian feminist witches who cackle and chant round the sacrificial chair, via skull puncture and suction of the unborn but quite sentient child’s brain (partial-birth abortion, for those unfamiliar with the procedure’s stomach-turning cruelty).  Nor has any gorilla I’ve ever known had the temerity to vest itself in a purple rayon housedress from Sears and go clumping into the Capitol of the United States swollen with pride like some great bourgeois grape — for having achieved what?

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For all of these reasons then, I request, no, I DEMAND that Rusty DePass and everyone else who dares exercise First Amendment freedoms in private (the dirty bastards!) publicly apologize for comparing Miss Hell Obomber to a gorilla.  And then perhaps in time — just perhaps — the gorillas will forgive them.

Loyal subjects of the Crown: Hussein Obomber and that salope Sarkozy can go sod themselves!

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Elizabeth R. has been blackballed from this year’s D-Day commemorations in Normandy — and the fact that Obama and Sarkozy, who disinvited her, are both socially lower than a snake’s belly only adds insult to injury.  My apologies for linking to the Upper West Side Slimes, Jayson Blair’s far-left birdcage liner of record, but they were first to break this story stateside I believe.  The Daily Mail’s take: “Palace fury as Sarkozy refuses to invite royals to 65th Anniversary,” with appropriate details about that Glaswegian tub of guts Gordo Brown’s complicity in the snub.

One hates to say “I told you so,” especially to borderline lèse-majesté, but lie down with dogs and you get fleas. Conservatives warned back in April that Her Majesty shouldn’t receive Calypso Barry and Miss Hell Obomber, but noblesse oblige evidently got the better of her.  The monarch should have taken a leaf from her feisty grandson, Prince Harry, who as your humble servant noted back in January seems blissfully uncorrupted by multiculturalist (i.e. anti-European) agitprop.

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Pictured above: The First Dragqueen rubs the Royal Person with her great galumphing paw of a man-hand, as she might another transvestite during some crack-fuelled lip-synch of “I Will Survive.”

Really, to paraphrase Sir Alan Clark’s wife, you can expect this sort of thing when you have below-stairs Anglophobes round for drinks.  QEI, Gloriana, the virgin Bride of England, wouldn’t have boarded her least-favorite dog with the Obamas, let alone spoken to them socially.

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Elizabeth I, the Rainbow Portrait: “I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe should dare to invade the borders of my realm.”

And Sarkozy? A glorified fishmonger.

Voici M. la Grenouille-en-Chef avec sa putain — you know, Carla Bruni, the dopey slut who recently dragged her name into the headlines by sassing the Patriarch of Rome on the Christian teaching against contraception.  A subject with which she’s become most intimately familiar, perforce, during long years spent screwing her bowlegged way to the Élysée Palace.  In this photo, her legs are kept from flying apart only by Sarko’s crushing grip, inherited from his gold-grasping cit forebears, who knew to pinch a penny ’til it squeaked:

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And that great, rawboned, Korean toaster of a head — can it be Bruni’s a drag queen too?