Woodward Makes For a Better Heading than Mark Felt Does
Ann Coulter

June 9, 2005 |


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 |


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 |


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.


2005, Mark Hoback