DUmmie FUnnies 07-06-05 ("Dear American Right Wing...")

Michael Savage has written a book called “Liberalism Is a Mental Disorder.” Should any of you out there have any doubt as to the validity of his assertion, then I suggest you read this THREAD titled, “Dear American Right Wing...” authored by DUmmie baby_mouse who is indeed suffering from a severe mental disorder as you shall see. Most frightening is that his DUmmie’s cohorts, with one notable exception, in extreme liberalism chime in and agree with his rabid ranting. As usual the DUmmie anger at the world at large is in Bolshevik Red while the commentary of your humble correspondent, secretly admitting that mentally disordered liberals are FUN to watch, is in the [brackets]:

Dear American Right Wing... How horrible you are.

[Ooh! Ooh! How horrible is the chastisement of your severe tongue lashing! Continue DUmmie baby_mouse…]

What a twisted, sour, ugly, weird, cowed, freakish crowd of malcontents, doomsayers, ne'er-do-wells, losers in life and criminals you all are.

[You left out “nasty,” “evil,” and “mean” in your list of adjectives. But continue. All is being jotted down on the pad for analysis my little DUmmie patient.]

How *un*respectable. How *un*imaginative. How *very* lacking in that vital spark that galvanizes true leadership. How impoverished of the soul, how devoid of ordinary decency and compassion, how mindless, how corrupt, how petty and shrill and silly you all are.

[How now brown cow.]

Why do you do it? I am non-plussed.

[Or as they say in Newspeak, double plus non-plussed.]

You could be nice people if you wanted, it's not difficult. It's more fun, too.

[Could…could we even be as NICE as you, DUmmie baby_mouse?]

I can only imagine the churning vortex of power, shit, death, greed and money that haunts your dreams, the log-books of perceived slights that you pore over night by night, the ogreish monsters, black hearted demons and giggling imps that must endlessly patrol the subconscious of your party to maintain its vast libraries of immaculate hatred. Not that I wish to, particularly. What a well-oiled and thoroughly USELESS machine. Useless work darkens the soul, gentleman.

[Somehow the word “projection” comes to mind here.]

What do you ADD to Humanity? What GOOD are you to anyone? What are you FOR?

[I know what you are for, DUmmie baby_mouse. You are here to AMUUUUSE us.]

I can't imagine that you enjoy being that way. You must know what you are when you look in the mirror in the mornings and there's no-one around you to play the game, because no-one is a fool about himself when he's alone. Small, mean-spirited men sniping at each other about imaginary enemies behind closed doors. What an ugly way to live. You must be miserable!

[Sniff! How miserable I am living the Morlock life waiting to enslave the cuddly liberal Eloi.]

Imagine wanting to be a Republican! A REPUBLICAN!

[Imagine wanting to be a DUmmie! A DUMMIE!]

Fear and constraint and what-does-HE-think-about-me and sniggering behind the bike sheds and scoring minuscule fractions of points off each other and anyone with a more open heart than yourselves! It's AWFUL! Imagine being crushed forever into that pitiful little grey suit forever and ever until you're DEAD. Because you're all far too afraid to change. You're going to die that way, you know. All of you. Empty hearted having lead lives devoid of meaning or purpose, forever alienated from the world, utterly cast out by your own fear and demoralized in the face of anything resembling generosity of spirit or kindness.

[Home? I have no home. Hunted, despised, Living like an animal! The jungle is my home. But I will show the world that I can be its master! I will perfect my own race of people. A race of atomic supermen which will conquer the world!]

What's the best you can hope for?

[For your psychotic rant to end sometime this month, DUmmie baby_mouse.]

An interview where you manage to make the opposition feel as small as you do. Just for a LITTLE while. As your sweat trickles down your skull under the white blare of the studio lamps you tick off the talking points in your head. What was your score? Ten points? Twenty? A Thousand?

[Let me guess the problem here, DUmmie baby_mouse. A Freeper kicked your ass in a debate.]

Who cares? You. Only you. And sometimes not even YOU care, when you stare at your sunken eyes in the mirror after crawling out of bed away from a wife that won't sleep with you or speak to you anymore, listening to the strange, frightening, alien noises of the children downstairs, the children you never wanted but had to have because your dad told you you had to be a family man.

[Talk to the hand. Better yet, talk to the rubber walls.]

Is your tie the right shade of grey? Is your parting in the right place? Did you book an appointment with the right plastic surgeon or have you by accident chosen one that pissed off one of your powerful friends?

[Is your butterfly net handle the correct length? Are your pogo stick springs properly aligned? Did you book an appointment with the right rubber duckie or have you by accident bitten down on a leather strap belonging to one of your fellow DUmmies?]

How you love power! How little of it you really have!

[How you love meds! How little of it you really have.]

You can't really change anything, can you?

[Hey, I changed my underwear which puts me ahead of you.]

What you want is not to be alone, for other people to be crushed into the same little grey suit as you, to cower perpetually behind images and symbols and lies and games and tricks, to trap themselves in ever decreasing circles so that we all think like you, small, cramped thoughts, not big, scary new ones that make you feel stupid.

[You really really want that FUnnie Farm vacation.]

But you can't get inside our heads. You want to think you can, because that's the only way you beat aside your shadows, your entrenched and utterly perverted egos straining without end at chains of their own devising.

[It’s my life goal…To crawl inside the head of a DUmmie and share a psychosis.]

Poor you.

And that's enough pity.

F*CK you.

F*ck you and the horse you rode in on.

[t's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?...]

It's not *our* fault you were born so crippled, so lacking in feeling and the ordinary human strengths of cooperation and good conduct. It's not *our* fault you're so frightened of anything different from yourself you have to legislate against it in case it makes you think things about yourself you don't like.

[It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood,
A neighborly day for a beauty.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?...]

It's not OUR fault you're a fool. It's YOURS.

And we are not here to pick up the tab for you. We are not here to be responsible for both your behavior and our own. Why should we pay for your inability to cast aside your blindfolds and chains? You put them there! Only you can remove them.

[I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you.
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.]


I'm all for tolerance and cooperation, but only with people who, recognizing my position, will reciprocate. I have no time for people who simply take advantage of my good nature.

[So, let's make the most of this beautiful day.
Since we're together we might as well say:
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Won't you please,
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?]

Great rant. I can't wait until the all have to hide in caves in shame for what they've done.

[You can share a padded cave with DUmmie baby_mouse.]

I think it's going to take something pretty catastrophic to remove them from power in a way that actually results in that. All sorts of things have come and gone and been brushed off that really should have sunk them long ago.

[Why don’t you TRY the Bolshevik Revolution you keep thinking about, DUmmie baby_mouse.]

This type of talk just cheapens this board and makes us all look like frothing at the mouth crazies.

[And this DUmmies wins a mouth frothing Kewpie Doll for having a brief moment of mental clarity!]

It's neither cheap nor crazy. It's dead on righteous.

[I don’t know about cheap but crazy…DEFINITELY.]

But if things should turn I hope our rage veterans can comedown again to the decent dialog necessary among frail and fallible human beings. The rant includes these sentiments I believe.

[Didn’t I see you wearing a “Rage Veteran” cap?]

I liked your rant though I am quite sure that the nasty people that this was directed at will need a Webster's collegiate dictionary. Nevertheless, their pea brains may explode before they reach the second paragraph. It's all good.

[We exploded in laughter by the second paragraph. It’s all hilarious.]