it’s finger licken

I wanna be sticken

My heart to you.

-haiku #B

Prologue :: Poems :: Rants :: Revelations :: Pictures :: Downloads :: Epilogue

I just read an article written by Ann Coulter. I was told that she got

fired after this article, and I’m not surprised. She was a “syndicated

columnist” (as she would like to label herself) of the Universal Press

Syndicate, as well as the Contributed Editor of National Review Online.

The article is probably still available on the NRO website.

A rather interesting article, I must say — a good example of extreme

hatred blended with ignorance. The most intriguing quote for me would

probably be, “We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and

convert them to Christianity.”

Anyway, without further delay — the content (or whatever you’d like to

call this junk) is here. The heading is “This Is War”, with a little

line below that reads, “We should invade their countries.”

The article:

Barbara Olson kept her cool. In the hysteria and terror of hijackers

herding passengers to the rear of the plane, she retrieved her cell phone

and called her husband, Ted, the solicitor general of the United States.

She informed him that he had better call the FBI — the plane had been

hijacked. According to reports, Barbara was still on the phone with Ted

when her plane plunged in a fiery explosion directly into the Pentagon.

Barbara risked having her neck slit to warn the country of a terrorist

attack. She was a patriot to the very end.

This is not to engage in the media’s typical hallucinatory overstatement

about anyone who is the victim of a horrible tragedy. The furtive cell

phone call was an act of incredible daring and panache. If it were not,

we’d be hearing reports of a hundred more cell phone calls. (Even people

who swear to hate cell phones carry them for commercial air travel.)

The last time I saw Barbara in person was about three weeks ago. She

generously praised one of my recent columns and told me I had really

found my niche. Ted, she said, had taken to reading my columns aloud to

her over breakfast.

I mention that to say three things about Barbara. First, she was really

nice. A lot of people on TV seem nice, but aren’t. (And some who don’t

seem nice, are.) But Barbara was always her charming, graceful,

vebullient self. “Nice” is an amazingly rare quality among writers. In

the opinion business, bitter, jealous hatred is the norm. Barbara had

reason to be secure.

Second, it was actually easy to imagine Ted reading political columns

aloud to Barbara at the breakfast table. Theirs was a relationship that

could only be cheaply imitated by Bill and Hillary — the latter being a

subject of Barbara’s appropriately biting bestseller, Hell to Pay.

Hillary claimed preposterously in the Talk magazine interview that she

discussed policy with Bill while cutting his grapefruit in the morning.

Ted and Barbara really did talk politics — and really did have breakfast

together.

It’s “Ted and Barbara” just like it’s Fred and Ginger, and George and

Gracie. They were so perfect together, so obvious, that their friends

were as happy they were on their wedding day. This is more than the

death of a great person and patriotic American. It’s a human amputation.

Third, since Barbara’s compliment, I’ve been writing my columns for Ted

and Barbara. I’m always writing to someone in my head. Now I don’t know

who to write to. Ted-and-Barbara were a good muse.

Apart from hearing that this beautiful light has been extinguished from

the world, only one other news flash broke beyond the numbingly

omnipresent horror of the entire day. That evening, CNN reported that

bombs were dropping in Afghanistan — and then updated the report to say

they weren’t our bombs.

They should have been ours. I want them to be ours.

This is no time to be precious about locating the exact individuals

directly involved in this particular terrorist attack. Those responsible

include anyone anywhere in the world who smiled in response to the

annihilation of patriots like Barbara Olson.

We don’t need long investigations of the forensic evidence to determine

with scientific accuracy the person or persons who ordered this specific

attack. We don’t need an “international coalition.” We don’t need a

study on “terrorism.” We certainly didn’t need a congressional

resolution condemning the attack this week.

The nation has been invaded by a fanatical, murderous cult. And we

welcome them. We are so good and so pure we would never engage in

discriminatory racial or “religious” profiling.

People who want our country destroyed live here, work for our airlines,

and are submitted to the exact same airport shakedown as a lumberman from

Idaho. This would be like having the Wehrmacht immigrate to America and

work for our airlines during World War II. Except the Wehrmacht was not

so bloodthirsty.

“All of our lives” don’t need to change, as they keep prattling on TV.

Every single time there is a terrorist attack — or a plane crashes

because of pilot error — Americans allow their rights to be contracted

for no purpose whatsoever.

The airport kabuki theater of magnetometers, asinine questions about

whether passengers “packed their own bags,” and the hostile, lumpen

mesomorphs ripping open our luggage somehow allowed over a dozen armed

hijackers to board four American planes almost simultaneously on Bloody

Tuesday. (Did those fabulous security procedures stop a single hijacker

anyplace in America that day?)

Airports scrupulously apply the same laughably ineffective airport

harassment to Suzy Chapstick as to Muslim hijackers. It is preposterous

to assume every passenger is a potential crazed homicidal maniac. We

know who the homicidal maniacs are. They are the ones cheering and

dancing right now.

We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to

Christianity. We weren’t punctilious about locating and punishing only

Hitler and his top officers. We carpet-bombed German cities; we killed

civilians. That’s war. And this is war.

::

it is on its way to finishing school