Saturday, July 26, 2003

Ann, and the Tower of Forbidden Babble

Listen fair subjects of the dominion, this is important. According to Ann Coulter, bellwether of forbidden truths, this country was crawling with subversive atheist commie jackals gnawing on the live entrails of our virginal Christian Republic back when Harry S. Truman and Joseph Stalin were managing the affairs of the nation from a shady veranda under a Banyan tree in Key West Florida.

Because of the Democratic Party's moral infirmity and incompetence, all of America lived under the threat of nuclear annihilation for the next 50 years. It's a shameful history. The Democratic Party did that to this country and they've hidden their collaboration with a regime as evil as the Nazis by making McCarthy the issue. - Ann Coulter, interview Is the Left Guilty of ‘Treason’? 700 Club, Christian Broadcast Network, July 16, 2003 /

"Liberals have a preternatural gift for striking a position on the side of treason. You could be talking about Scrabble and they would instantly leap to the anti-American position. Everyone says liberals love America, too. No they don't. Whenever the nation is under attack, from within or without, liberals side with the enemy. This is their essence." - Ann Coulter, Treason

Senator Joe McCarthy of the wood violet state tried to warn us of this treacherous union and was slowly nailed to an inverted rood for his efforts. This all happened many years ago, when men were men and chaste women made the nest upon the slopes of whatever slag heap the kindly Mr. Peabody provided. Whats more, according to Ann, we are once again being suffocated by the same treasonous "essence" and torpid lefty sorceries that eventually brought Truman's Scrabble games with GOGs red horse of the apocalypse to a menacing win loose or draw.

More from Tony Zonca, who remembers those stygian days of communist trespass. See: Coulter didn’t live through suspicion of McCarthyism

And listen to this!:

"Democrats feel free to say that they’re better on civil rights than Republicans are. That they’re better on women’s issues. But, boy, a Republican says, we’re more patriotic than the Democratic Party and they go ballistic. That’s the one thing you’re not allowed to say. That is the one free speech that is not permitted." - Ann Coulter, MSNBC's 'Scarborough Country', July 7, 2003

Wowwwww. Bold emphasis mine. One can't allow such a bold revelation to go unemboldened.

Of course Ann no doubt fancies herself some sort of latter day Rapunzel, her days spent pining away atop a twisting grapevine staircase leading to the embrasure of a clerestory window, high in a terrible tower, a captive damsel lass, held fast to a bewitched spire of elitist liberal subversions and other high rogue dramas. Yes, times have always been tough for Ann, growing up the scion belle of Mammon touched rampion starved WASPs from Greenwich Connecticut is no picnic, but being muzzled by turnkey Democrats, that is another matter. If what Ann claims is true, that "a Republican" can't say "we’re more patriotic than the Democratic Party" then I'm afraid we are all only a homegrown commie plot and a midnight seizure away from scrabbling away with Ann in her batty prison belfry. Woe is Ann. Woe is US.

Of course I'm not exactly sure when Ann was heaved into her cloud shrouded calaboose, but when one considers that Ann herself has spent at least the last couple of weeks popping up like some kind of grinning albino Monocle snake in front of one television camera after another, freely telling one tale after another that is apparently, according to Ann, not permitted to be told, while simultaneously pitching a book full of goggle-eyed treasons and treacheries she apparently hain't permitted to pitch, one would have to conclude that Ann's vaulting dungeon of liberal tyranny would also include several cable news television studios, radio stations, and a publishing company publicity agent. All carefully concealed from her Bolshevik keepers, one would assume, behind an charmed mirror screwed to a damp revetment wall in her spire of delimitation. Liberal tower hoosegows are apparently full of such contraband amenities these days.

Ann, being Rapunzel-like and all, had always kept a watchful vigil in the event of an approaching Prince, of the Machiavellian sort preferably, - perchance he should come dashing over some field of bluebonnets to liberate her from the bewitched Bastille of liberalism, because thats the way the story goes - but hopefully not by some girly-boy truckle like Richard Lowry or that pudgy bathtub squeak-toy Jonah Goldberg. Sheesh. Perhaps G. Gordon Liddy (insert trumpet blast here) will come galloping to the rescue! A shimmering Teutonic boob, robed in knightly raiment like the Sands,Taylor and Wood company's King Arthur Flour logo-guy, astride a white 1950 Hydra-Glide, bearing a Bible and a basket of enchanted cranberry muffins. You never know, such are the things fairy tales are made of.

In any case, Ann, bellwether Rapunzel and captive of the Tower of Card-Carrying Liberalism, would have to make do with whatever gallant woo came riding a tail wind through her coops casement louvers. Alas! As things would have it, what came wafting through Ann's louvers was the scent of Joe Raymond McCarthy's pickled carcass decomposing among the tangled thorns and thistles of history that coiled themselves around her stockade's impregnable foundation. There was Joe Ray, splayed amongst the barbs and brambles, a fallen warrior Prince who'd long ago charged the walls of the menacing rose strangled Lefty colossus. Hooray! Ann of the Tower would retrieve the fallen hero and make him her chivalrous Templar. Entangled in Ann's golden locks, the dull hero's carcass would be hoisted through the window and into the solitary fold where the resurrected messiah of bygone Congressional witch hunts would be placed upon a trundle bed of straw. Ann would then proceed to scrub her stiff cadaver clean, removing generations of pinko-liberal sullage from under his purple fingernails and plucking the thorns of a thousand godless blasphemies from his ghastly bloodless rump. A little rose water here, a little rose water there and the next thing you know - Ann, the prisoner of the obelisk, had become resurrectionist. Her Prince had come at last, restored before the charmed mirror, a martyr liberated, to the touched reveries of Ann's Tower of Forbidden Babble. (inset trumpet blast here)