Commander in Briefs
Ann Coulter (Archive)

August 18, 2005


Sometimes a person can be in so much psychic pain that they will commit acts which seem bizarre to the mentally balanced amongst us. Things like living in a roadside ditch in unbearable heat, and moaning like an armadillo that's just had it's tail squashed by a two ton pickup, shouting into any microphone that's stuck it's way. Of course, armadillos can not speak, so we must be talking about none other than the armadillo faced everlasting gobstopper know as Cindy Sheehan. Much like the gobstopper, you can suck on Cindy forever without ever getting anything that resembles good taste.

How much taste, really, does it require to use your own child's death into a quest for a six-figure book deal? Do it the way I did, Cindy, hard work, perseverance, and most importantly talent. And while it is really against my nature to be cruel, I really do have to point out that looks do matter. Believe me, this is one grieving mother who is so ugly that she could get work in prison curing sex offenders. I'll bet that Bill Clinton, our former Commander in Briefs, wouldn't even give her a second thought. Mmm, no, I guess that's probably an exaggeration.

Listen, you witch, I've got a news flash for you - it was the entire nation that was attacked on 911. This isn't about you, so quit with the drama queen bit for pity's sake. We're sorry about your son, but he was the good apple who fell far away from the rotting tree, fell and kept rolling until he landed on foreign soil, ready, willing and able to annihilate the Muslim fanatics. You have a problem with that? I'm sure if he were still alive, your beloved Casey would sure as hell have a problem with you.

It certainly is fortunate that the Constitution vests authority to make foreign policy with the president of the United States, not with whatever whiney woman has the week's saddest story. Because then we would have to contend with the sorry sight of Jennifer Anniston declaring war on Angelina Jolie. What a catfight that would be! Whoa, I'd pay big bucks to see that one, which really invalidates the opening sentence of this paragraph. Nevertheless, I'm on a roll.

Speaking of sniveling bitches, I see that perky punk Maureen Dowdy has weighed in on the Sheehan fiasco, claiming that it's "inhumane" for Bush not "to understand that the moral authority of parents who bury children killed in Iraq is absolute." What the hell is that supposed to mean? If I had a child - this is rhetorical  - that was killed in Iraq, would I have the same absolute moral authority as a lefty mother? Trick question - I already do.

Dowd's "absolute" moral authority column just goes to show what happens when liberals start tossing around terms they don't understand like "absolute" and "moral" and "dysteleology." I think it would be pretty funny if I used the first two words in a sentence that exemplifies the third. The moral inspiration for Dowd's column was also absolute.

Good one, huh, both witty and urbane. Of course it's all based on the readers knowledge that Absolut (sorry about the 'e'!) is an absolutely wonderful brand of vodka, one that is enjoyed by liberals and conservatives alike. I particularly like Absolute Mandarin - you can taste those little oranges exploding in your mouth, but without all the calories. Oh lord, I've made myself thirsty. Excuse me for just half a minute.

Anyway, wrapping things up, it's important to know that 'pretty' Cindy has used both the F word and the S word while describing President Bush. And that her husband of 28 years is divorcing her because she is clinically insane. And that after sleeping in a ditch for two weeks, she is covered with disgusting mosquito bites, and quite possibly has ticks. And now we hear that Cindy is refusing to pay her federal income tax, claiming that she has already paid her price and owes the government nothing. Let her get away with that and everybody is going to want a dead son.

 

2005, Mark Hoback