Wednesday, May 19, 2010

The Ninth Circuit Really Pushes That Cucumber Farther Up My Ass

by special guest columnist George F. Will

Greetings and perorations, America. I salute you once again.  But as usual, there is a cucumber up my ass.

(As my devotees are no doubt aware, every morning I arouse myself with a splash of ice-cold water that has been in my freezer for exactly 30 minutes--just long enough to get a tad slushy but not frozen solid--for one cannot splash one's face with a block of ice (I add that because most of my readers are not, shall we say, the sharpest blades in the drawer?) (though at least they can read, which is more than I can say for Limbaugh's mindless horde of brown-shirted thugs which seem to be one step away from mobbing our cities and scrawling the Star of David on shop windows).  Then I eat precisely 1.75 poached eggs with a intensely freedom-loving 6 ounces of very American orange juice (no Francophilic mectirc system in my house, thank you), after which my maid, Ismelda, shoves a fresh cucumber up my ass.  Oh, some may laugh, but let me tell you it does wonders for my posture.  It is also an excellent reminder to get up from the old word processor and stretch every now and then.  By the end of the day it has somehow been absorbed into by my digestive tract, so in answer to your question, no, Ismelda does not have to remove it.

More to the point, when the atheist liberal degeneracy that have been trying to take over America do something of which I disapprove, the cucumber is reflexively pushed farther up into my arse.  The resultant contractions and peristaltic waves of flexion and deflection of my inner smooth muscle tissues--which sometimes I confess are quite pleasant--are a potent reminder that I must clench the cheeks of my buttocks even harder until my disapproval has been expressed in a written form and published in some public fashion.  And so I stiffen in the fashion of a corpse in which rigor mortis has appeared, and proclaim my disapproval in a manner not seen since Queen Victoria snuffed it, typing and tattering and pecking away, and last...the cucumber is dissolved, and my buttocks de-clench sufficiently for me to make it back to the parking garage and I can drive home.  And that, my friends, is what I must do now.  I must register my exasperation with a legal system that is cumbersome and unwieldy and contradictory and fails to comply with the Old Testament (a great book by the way).  Why is it that so many legal minds refuse to acknowledge the obvious--that there is no contradiction between The Bill Of Rights, and The Bible?   America's greatest judge/sex-pest, Clarence Thomas, fails to see any.  I think this proves my point.  Any type of nuance in the law or attempts to adjust to circumstances--in particular, in education, because all children are exactly alike--is ludicrous.

Furthermore, my general registration of disapproval with its implicit disgust must include a cry of despair over the inhibition of freedom of freedom-loving parents who do not have the same choices as wealthy parents.  Even though I am in favor of taxing the fuck-all out of those parents because it's only fair to me, and paying taxes inhibits my freedom, still those nasty naughty liberal east-cost elitist judges on the Ninth Circuit (or west-coast, even worse) need a slap in the face for failing to uphold a precedent--which the current El Supremo would never do (unless it conflicts with the Bible).

And Clarence Thomas tells me he has the perfect tool with which to perform the aforementioned face-slapping.

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